


What’s In A Name?

by IndulgentDiscourse



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Crew as Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 00:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndulgentDiscourse/pseuds/IndulgentDiscourse
Summary: A look at Davenport’s past, and the importance of family.





	What’s In A Name?

**Author's Note:**

> So about once a month I get hit with a huge wave of angst about dear old Cap’n’port, so I decided to do something about it. Yes I should be working on the Magnus fic. No I can’t stop procrastinating.

Drew Keldrop Tolen Wrewin Gavyn Traybar Davenport.

That was his full name, given to him by his family, from his birth all the way up to the moment of his induction to the I.P.R.E..

He used to think of his names as a handful, something none of the Big Folk would want to deal with, something to slow him down and an easy way to write him off. See, it was common for gnomes to pick up extra names as they aged and grew. When you lived in a large warren filled to the brim with extended family, as most gnomes did, you tended to pick up nicknames, fast.

Keldrop was gnomish for a child of gold, a blessing on the warren. It was good luck for a gnome to be born a redhead, and his family rejoiced.

“He’ll grow up to be mighty smart,” a grandfather crowed, passing the infant to an aunt.

“Maybe he’ll join the other engineers a few towns over,” a cousin guessed.

“He could make us rich,” cheered a sibling who was ecstatic to be a big brother for the first time.

Drew learned to read faster than any of the other children in the warren, and his first few toys consisted of hand-me-down building toys and magic puzzle boxes that lit up when they were solved. Stuffed animals and toy cars were ignored, for the most part.

Tolen meant silent, stoic. Drew was always quiet and subdued, maybe not by the standards of any Big Folk, but quiet for a gnome. Where his cousins and siblings would crack jokes and dance and play tricks on each other in the manner of most gnome children, Drew would read or tinker with metal scraps that his aunts and uncles brought back from work. He was focused and would rather lose himself in a book in the corner than in a crowd like his family. His parents worried for him, fussing over him at little things.

“Maybe it’s just a phase,” a cousin sighed at the dinner table. “Like when Uncle Quen stopped telling jokes for a few years.” Beside him, said Uncle raised an eyebrow at the comments. Eventually, Drew let himself relax, playing nonsense games with other children and playing sneaky tricks on unsuspecting adults. More than once, Grand-Grandpa Pip would open a door to be doused with a bucket of water, Drew hiding in the closet or under the bed, giggling quietly.

Wrewin came with his first experience with some Big Folk.

It was all the buzz around the warren that Drew’s parents, who were both mechanical engineers, had been hired by some humans who were looking to build a control station for a train nearby. They wanted quality input on the design and mechanics, and a local had directed them in the direction of the Davenport warren, assuring the humans of the quality of gnomish engineering.

Drew’s parents left for work that first day, excited for the prospect of working with Big Folk for the first time. They came back, exhausted from work, and almost imperceptibly upset at something. Drew noticed, but didn’t say anything, choosing to wait for a little longer before bringing it up. Besides, he was only fourteen, he didn’t know much about the world of the Big Folk. He wouldn’t have know what was going on.

A few weeks later, he asked to go with his parents for the day. He had always been interested in engineering, following in his parent’s footsteps, and he wanted to see what life was like beyond the community of the warren. His parents agreed, taking him the next day to the construction site.

It was a world unlike anything he could have imagined. Everything was huge, with buildings that towered above him and a world that seemed to go on forever. And the people! The people were like nothing he could have imagined! Humans were so tall that his father, who was tall for a gnome, only came up to the waist of his boss. Drew had read about how big the world was, but it was so much bigger than he pictured.

The humans themselves were nice, he learned as he shadowed his mother and father for the day. Nice, but a little clumsy. More than once the gnomes had to dance out of the way of someone’s path to avoid being stepped on by a human who didn’t see them. His father gritted his teeth as someone accidentally stepped on his tail when he was ducked halfway under a desk, soldering wires together. Humans were hard to read, too. Drew had grown up around other gnomes, whose ears and tails told just as much as their faces and words. Humans had no tails or twitchy ears, no giveaways to what they were thinking, no way to read them besides their faces and posturing. But the humans sure could read them, no problem.

At one point, his father’s boss asked Drew if he wanted to go up the lift to see what the electric power lines were like. Drew turned to look at the people, high up in the air, platform lifted by an enchantment, the only thing lifting them off the ground, the only thing keeping them safe was a single rope tether. Before he could even formulate a response, his ears pressed flat against the side of his skull, and the man laughed.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” he said easily. A passing worker returning from his break to the lifting platform grinned at them as he passed.

“Aw, lookit that, little guy’s scared,” he leered.

_Little guy? Where had that come from?_

Drew brushed it off as nothing, just a tough-guy worker being a tough-guy worker, but it continued on, even in the office. Drew approached his mother from where she worked at a desk that was too big for her, climbing the stool next to her chair where she stood, reviewing blueprints with a critical eye. Across the office, his mother’s coworker chatted amicably with him. How was he doing in school? Was he interested in engineering, too? Did he have any idea what he wanted to do for the summer? Did he have a lot of friends? Simple things, things that any well-meaning adult would ask a teenager. But the questions began to get more pointed. Did he know any good jokes? What was the best prank he ever pulled? Did he throw a lot of parties?

Drew knew that a lot of Big Folk didn’t know much about gnomes besides the legendary tricksters, but surely they knew that they did more than just joke and goof and trick people. Eventually, Drew’s mother looked up from her paperwork, frowning.

“Rosie, that’s enough, please.” Behind her, her tail twitched irritably. Rosie waved her irritation off with a flick of the wrist.

“Just asking him some questions, dear. Just relax!”

Drew’s mother opened her mouth, but her reply was cut off by her boss returning.

“I need those schematics for the track-switch,” he said. She dug around in a stack of paper before emerging triumphant, a folder messily labeled _switches_  held aloft.

“I’m not sure these are ready yet,” she said, holding the folder close to her chest. “They still need some revising, and they can’t be put in until the power lines are recrossed and enchanted, and that’s supposed to be done next Thursday-“

Her boss cut her off, holding up a hand. “They’ll be fine as is.” Drew’s mother raised an eyebrow, still holding the folder tightly. “I don’t think you understand,” she started, “if is isn’t done right, it could overwhelm the arcane core and-“ She was cut off once more by her boss.

“It’ll be fine, sweetheart, just give me the damn file!”

At the pet name, her tail began to lash behind her, almost hitting Drew. Her eyes narrowed, and she all but flung the folder at him, crossing her arms. Her boss rolled his eyes.

“Don’t get pissy at me! We hired you two to get the job done, not to design the perfect station! Honestly, you gnomes are all such perfectionists, I swear...” He left the office, mumbling to himself, gesticulating with the folder.

Drew’s mother seemed to fold inwards, her ears and tail drooping miserably down. They stayed like that for the rest of the day and all the way home, until they returned to the warren and she forced herself to pick them up, cheerfully greeting the rest of the family. After dinner, Drew cornered his parents.

“It’s always like that with the Big Folk, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. “That’s why you’re so tired all the time after work.”

Years later, Davenport would attend a mandatory “sensitivity training course” while training for his captainship. He would learn the word _microagression_ , and the effect it had, wearing people down over time.

But Drew didn’t know about that, just that the Big Folk were clumsy and rude people who were impossible to get a read on. They scared him, but he was determined to learn to deal with it, because as much as dealing with Big Folk sucked, he fell in love with engineering, the miracle of putting many parts together to make something new and whole. His cousin brought home a book about the stars, and he fell in love with those too, spending many nights sitting up and watching the night sky, dreaming about a day when he might get to swim in the sky and dance in the stars.

“ _Drew Keldrop Tolen Wrewin Davenport_ ,” his mother called as she stepped out of the warren late one night, searching for her errant son. “Get back in here! It’s time for bed, right now!”

That night, Drew paged through the dictionary until he found it: wrewin; one who watches, one who sees the unseen, abstract vision.

Gavyn as added on almost as an afterthought; gnomish for determined and steadfast. Drew soon knew that if he wanted to reach the stars, he needed the I.P.R.E., and to get into the I.P.R.E., he needed to study and learn. He read every book he could get his hands on, started fixing up old engines left around the rail yard a few towns over for money, stayed most nights out memorizing the constellations and stars.

He also started to change his mannerisms. As he grew up, he had loosened up some, becoming more comfortable with himself and his family and just how things were in general. But that fateful day of shadowing his parents had taught him one thing: in order to make it in the world of Big Folk, in order to be taken seriously, he had to change. He couldn’t be seen as a gnome, a silly little creature who danced and joked and turned tricks, he had to be serious, always in control of himself. Drew spent hours on end, for days at a time, watching himself in the mirror, learning to control himself and his reactions to things. He couldn’t let his ears or tail be a giveaway, he was too easy to read that way. Eventually, he had such control over himself that even when his cousins scared him in a silly prank, he remained completely impassive to it.

The last nickname his family ever gave him was Traybar, or, a traveler. He got it the day he left the warren for the I.P.R.E.. His mother pulled him close, whispering goodbyes in his ear.

“You be safe now, you hear me? Call home every chance you get, and come home to visit, please. Please come back, okay?” When she pulled away, tears shone in her eyes. Drew shifted his feet.

“I’m not sure how often I’ll get time away, Ma. I don’t even know if I’ll get time until I move up the ranks.”

His father clapped a stern hand on his shoulder.

“Drew Keldrop Tolen Wrewin Gavyn Traybar Davenport, you listen to your mother now! Don’t...” he trailed off, running a hand over his face. “Don’t make this harder for us than it has to be.”

Drew could hardly hear his father’s admonishment over the blood rushing in his ears. Another new name? He had to leave most of them behind, only putting his first name and family name on the papers to sign up.

As he said his goodbyes, cousins and siblings and aunts and uncles swarmed out of the warren after him, cheering goodbyes and waving him away as he made his way down the road. It wasn’t until they were out of sight behind him that he let himself go, felt his ears droop and tail go limp, dragging in the dust. He passed a puddle on his way to the nearest train station, caught a glimpse of himself in his fancy red uniform. He watched the reflection for a moment, before picking himself back up. He was Keldrop as much as he was Drew, he would make his family proud. He was Drew and Keldrop and Tolen and Wrewin and Gavyn and Traybar and finally, he was a Davenport, and he would do his family proud. He would be the first gnome to become a captain of the I.P.R.E., and he would fly a ship into the stars with a crew of his own. Hopefully, they wouldn’t even see him as a gnome, just as a respected Captain. And a Captain needed a respectful name, something that nobody would dare to even overlook. So, determined, he adjusted his uniform, and named himself. Davenport. An engineer, a pilot, a captain, an explorer.

He rose through the ranks, never looking back. It was hard, sure. He never let himself go to any parties that his coworkers invited him to, scared that he was only invited as “the gnome”. His room on the base was cold and empty, nothing like the warm warren he grew up in. Many nights he wistfully longed for the room he shared with his many cousins when he was younger, all curled up in one pile in a nest of pillows and blankets, warm and sleepy and home. He didn’t dare let himself give in to any longing, though. When he made colonel, his parents and siblings came to visit. He made sure to get leave from base, to stay in a hotel far enough away that none of his coworkers would see his hectic, jocular family.

He made a name for himself. _Look out for Davenport,_  they said in whispers around the halls. _He’s super strict and serious, don’t let him fool you_. _Davenport_ , they said, _is impossible to read. You never know what the man is thinking_! _He’s not like other gnomes you meet_.

Soon, the Light of Creation came to the I.P.R.E.. Soon, he was finally, finally given his captaincy. Given command of his own crew, handpicked from thousands of applicants. Given his own ship, with a fancy new bond engine. Given an impossible mission, two months into another dimension.

The day that the Starblaster began it’s maiden voyage, Captain Davenport looked over the edge of the ship to see his entire family there, waving, cheering. He waved back, feeling silly as cameras flashed and reporters shouted question after question. He almost laughed at his crew. The twins were taking it on themselves to entertain the media, posing and answering questions with nonsense answers and generally soaking in the attention. Merle was waving to the crowd on the other side of the ship. Barry hung back awkwardly, not sure what to do with himself. Lucretia, bless her heart, wasn’t used to this at all, and froze up at the sight of television reporters heading towards her, so Magnus took it upon himself to shield her from sight, ushering her up the gangway and onto the ship, blocking her from sight with his massive body.

Eventually it was time for takeoff. Eventually they cleared the atmosphere. Eventually, everything suddenly turned to shit.

It took them months to come to terms with everything that happened. Lucretia was heard sobbing every night for weeks, even as she recorded everything that happened on the new planet. Magnus grew angry, quiet, throwing himself into his training and his protectiveness over the team doubled. Merle turned to Pan, leading the group in prayers before every meal, leaning hard on his faith. The twins didn’t have anyone or anything back home for them, so they let Barry depend on them, in their own prickly way.

Davenport had nobody.

It didn’t really sink in until one night, as he was studying the stars, he realized that there were constellations he’d never seen before. Of course, it made sense, new planet and everything, but it never really clicked. And that realization hurt.

Family was important to gnomes, they often lived and died in the same warrens all their lives, living with families, creating, learning, exploring new curiosities. It gave them a sense of purpose to create something new for the next generation of gnomes to live in the warren. Family was a gnome’s life.

And his family was gone.

Destroyed, along with everything else he ever knew or loved. Along with the first engine he ever built, with the pillow that was always his in the warren, along with the stars he’d loved so dearly that he was willing to throw everything away for them.

Who was he?

Davenport.

That’s all he was anymore. Captain Davenport of the Starblaster of the I.P.R.E..

So he threw himself into it, shutting his pain down to the best of his abilities. He was a good captain, strict but fair. He liked his crew, they were hard workers and good people, and if they were all that was left of their world, he was glad it was them.

It wasn’t until Lucretia came to him, late one night a few cycles in, when he was studying the stars.

“Captain,” she began hesitantly. “May I sit?”

He tore his gaze away from the sky to focus on the young woman in front of him.

“Sure thing. What’s up?”

She gestured to the notebook she brought with her. “I’ve been taking autobiographies of everybody. They wanted a way to remember everything, and well, you’re the only one who I haven’t gotten to yet. Would you like me to-“ The rest of her sentence was cut off by Davenport pushing himself to his feet.

“I think I’m good,” he said, brushing off his pants. He began to walk away, but Lucretia spoke up again, almost shyly.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” He waved her on. “Sir, I think it’s a good idea, not only to preserve cultural identities of the world, but also- sir, it can be, ah, healing in a way, to talk about everything.”

Almost without his permission, Davenport bristled, tail lashing, ears standing upright. His voice was low with anger. “What are you implying, Lucretia?” To her credit, she pushed on. “With all due respect, sir, we’re worried about you. You don’t talk about anything in your personal life, you avoid bonding exercises with the rest of us, you won’t open up, you don’t tell us anything!”

He turned to her, drawing himself up to his full height, spine rigid, tail lashing wildly behind him. She carried on, almost desperately.

“Apologies, Captain, but I do know that gnomish culture places a very strong emphasis on family, and, well-“

He cut her off again, almost shouting now. “Lucretia, you’re crossing a very thin line! My _past_ -“ he spat the word like it offended him, “is not any of your concern! Nor is my culture, or my family!” He was shouting now, panting for breath, red in the face. “So I’ll thank you to leave me alone about it, as a direct order from your captain!”

With that, he spun around and marched into his room, slamming the door behind him. He thought he heard a muffled sob as Lucretia passed by, but he ignored it. He ignored everything as he climbed into bed, shut off the lights, tried to sleep. Tried to ignore the emptiness in his chest, the memories of the warren, and tried to sleep in a bed too big, a room too quiet, too cold.

He wasn’t very successful.

Who was he?

He couldn’t be Keldrop anymore, he had no family left to bless. The thought stung.

Who was he?

He was Davenport. That’s all that mattered.

Cycles flew by, until they came to one very similar to their own, at about cycle six. It was the first cycle they had that gnomes in it.

Of course, he should have expected his crew to do something... mischievous.

The rest of the crew went to a local cultural center, seeking information out about gnomes. Naturally, their Captain wasn’t with them. And they were horrified at what they found. They knew that their Captain was keeping secrets from them, but only a few of them knew the gist of it. The twins, for all their years alive, hadn’t had much time for exploring various cultures. Lucretia knew from her research. The other two humans and Merle simply didn’t know. Gnomes were a secretive and sneaky people who didn’t often interact with “Big Folk”, as they called them.

They couldn’t have imagined the pain that their captain was in, for all that time. See, the crew had learned to lean on each other, but Davenport was so scared of losing their respect and control over them that he never let his guard down long enough to make any of those connections. On a personal level, it was lonely and painful, especially for someone who was hardwired to thrive on those connections. On a technical level, on a ship that ran on bond energy, it could present later problems.

They had to find a way to get Davenport to connect with them.

So, they staged a mutiny.

First, Magnus dragged Davenport off the ship, taking him to see a farm with “some really cool dogs, c’mon, it’ll be great!”

Then the rest of the crew got to work. They turned the common room into a giant blanket fort, tunneling it to the rest of the ship. The twins made a meal of Davenport’s favorite foods, and in their spare time, came up with a list of possible nicknames for him, ranging from flattering to vaguely insulting. Lucretia dragged every single soft thing in the ship that wasn’t in the giant nest Merle was making in the common room into Davenport’s room, in case he wanted to hide away in there. At least he could be comfortable, then.

Then, after Magnus returned (thankfully, empty handed, no dogs allowed on the ship) with their captain, the fun really began.

“Please? I promise I would take it for walks every day and pick up after it and-“

“It’s still a no, Magnus. Now, let’s see what the twins made for dinner, yeah?”

Davenport was speechless, walking into the ship. It had completely transformed, the blanket fort tunneled up to the main entrance, glowing softly with dancing lights. Inside sat the remaining crew members, all in a circle, waiting for him.

“Captain,” Lucretia called, patting a seat on a pillow. “Come join us!”

Hesitantly, he took a seat. It didn’t escape his notice that Magnus took a seat closest to the tunnel to his room.

“It’s an intervention, Cap’n,” Taako drawled from where he was lazily sprawled across a couch. “The fuckin’ engine only has a few more years left in it if you don’t start talking to us about shit.”

Lup took her chance from where she lay across a blanket on her stomach.

“We’re worried about you. We went to talk to some people today, and it’s looking like you need a little help dealing with all the shit we’ve been through. So, we’re gonna start helping you, today, right now. Starting with you telling us about your parents.”

Davenport was already shaking his head, getting up, edging towards his room.

“Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but I’m fine, I promise. You guys should carry on without me, have a team meeting and whatnot-“ The path to his room was blocked by Magnus.

“Sorry, Captain,” he said, not looking sorry in the least. “But I can’t let you hide this time.”

Davenport stiffened. “Magnus, move. That’s an order.”

Magnus didn’t move. “Guess it’s a mutiny, then.” He didn’t seem very phased by this declaration of mutiny. Davenport pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he snapped, tip of his tail flicking. “Fine.” He plopped down back onto his cushion. Barry handed him a blanket. Feeling foolish, he bundled himself up in it. At least this way he could hide his tail.

“Let’s make things a little bit easier,” Lup suggested with a sly glance at Merle. “Let’s play a little game of truth or dare!”

He barely had time to tell Lup off before the dwarf shouted, “I cast _Zone of Truth_!” and the spell washed over them.

They all had unique ways of casting spells, but what was really special about Merle was that his Zone of Truth compelled truth, instead of just making it hard to lie. He felt waves of nerves wash over him, and he knew the spell had a hold of him.

Lucretia leaned forward, pen at the ready.

“Tell me about your parents,” she urged gently.

And he did.

He told them everything, about how his parents met and their families combined to all fit into one warren. He told them about the day he spent shadowing them and his first encounter with Big Folk. He told them about his family, and his cousins, and how much he missed sleeping in one room with them all. He told them how he missed playing tricks on the neighbors and how much he missed the train yard where he fixed up old engines.

He told them about how he fell in love with the stars, about how he pushed aside everything about himself and his life and his family and his culture to get there.

He told them about his names. Keldrop and Tolen and Wrewin and Gavyn and Traybar and how he left them all off his application, about how proud he was when he received his uniform, bright red and shiny buttons and his name stitched into the breast and how it took so much fighting to get a uniform made in a proper size for him, how much he hated having to have his mother cut a hole in the pants for his tail because the I.P.R.E. forgot that gnomes have tails and how he missed the stars from back home.

He told them about the day he taped his ears to his head, when nobody was around, just to see what it felt like when they didn’t react to things. He told them about how hard it was to read people at first, how people always looked over him, literally, how he had to show up in person to ensure the cockpit of the Starblaster was the right size for him, because the engineers who built the ship didn’t believe that there actually was a gnome captain.

He told them how lonely he was, watching them bond from a distance, with him on the outside, fearing losing everything he fought so hard to become.

They listened. They listened with rapt attention to everything he had to say, Lucretia jotting things down rapidly, listening so hard that even Taako gave up the pretense of not giving a shit and leaned in. They listened, they assured him, because he was more than a captain to them.

He was a friend, a father figure, a voice of reason. Someone they respected on a much more personal level than just the pins and badges on his uniform.

And deep down, the pain he felt lessened. It didn’t lift away, didn’t completely stop. But it was easier to manage.

He hadn’t felt this okay since before he left for the I.P.R.E..

The twins presented him with the list of nicknames. At the top, circled in red, was Magnus’s hastily scrawled “Cap’n’port”.

Davenport felt the knot in his gut unclench, and he stared up at Magnus. Here was the first nickname the crew unanimously agreed upon, created by the goofus of a security officer in front of him. Magnus grinned down at him.

The twins slipped away, returning with trays laden with steaming food- all of Davenport’s favorites. Merle dismissed the spell, and they all ate, with the exception of Lucretia, who was still writing furiously. Eventually, she pulled away, and slid the notebook across the blanketed floor towards Davenport. On the front cover, where the title should be, simply read “The Story Of Cap’n’port”.

Soon, night came. Unanimously, the crew settled into the nest, tucked into each other. Taako use Magnus’s arm as a pillow, with Lup’s legs tossed over his stomach. Barry curled up with his back to Lup, arms around Lucretia, who snored softly and sprawled over Magnus’s legs. Merle tucked into his other side, blinking sleepily up at Davenport, who had busied himself with putting the dishes into the kitchen. He patted the spot next to him, and with a sigh, Davenport curled up next to him, allowing the dwarf to pet his hair. He fell asleep, warm against Magnus’s side, content, with happiness rising in his chest once more.

Who was he?

Drew Keldrop Tolen Wrewin Gavyn Traybar Cap’n’port Davenport.

Captain Davenport of the Starblaster.

Drew, to his family. Davenport to his friends, soon to be family just as well. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you like it, it killed me to write it! 
> 
> Kudos are great, but comments make my week! 
> 
> Thank you and I love all of you!


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